


A Slither of Love

by Lumieerie



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Snakes, i wrote this from 2 to 4 am so bare with it, theyre just so cute im crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18943111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumieerie/pseuds/Lumieerie
Summary: “Angel,” Crowley said softly. Then he followed it with a string of increasingly cuter nicknames, “Doll, dear, sweetheart... honey” until Aziraphale finally noticed that his head was in the clouds and the object of his affections, currently a snake, was addressing him.





	A Slither of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Good Omens fandom, I'm new, its 4 am and I would die for these two.

There’s something about shedding your skin and sleeping in a potted plant that does wonders for hide and seek. For instance, no one knows to look for a snake if the last visage they saw was of your mortal avatar. There’s the added bonus of being able to nap in silence because, once again, no one can find you.

Really, it’s ideal.

“Really, dear? Sleeping at a time like this?”

Scratch that. What’s ideal is hearing the comforting octave of an angel who has nothing but fondness for you.

Crowley’s eyes slide open and he looks at Aziraphale, unblinking. “I didn’t feel like scourging the house for a bed.” His tone is smooth as he uncoils himself. If Azirsaphale was here to collect him then he guessed that his nap would have to wait. “What time is it? Why can’t I sleep,” he asks.

He doesn’t expect Aziraphale to lift him up, so he lets out a surprised hiss. If it had been anyone else, Crowley certainly would have retaliated in kind. Luckily, Aziraphale was practically the only one he trusted.

“You’re such a soft and messy thing,” Aziraphale ignores his question and wraps Crowley around his neck, unafraid that he’s a snake and snakes could choke one by accident. “I’ve never taken care of a snake: I feel that nobody knows how to take care of you.”

Crowley snorts. “Just because you don’t know how to care for a snake does not mean that no one else knows how.” Immediately, he settles around the angels neck, subconsciously cuddling closer, protective. “Just watch the scales. I’ll change back later.”

Aziraphale hums in response. “I think you’re rather cute like this.”

Could snakes blush? More specifically, could demon snakes blush? Crowley was prone to indulging in those little compliments Aziraphale always gave him.

“Am I not cute in any other form?”

“Quite the opposite,” Aziraphale offers. “You’re as handsome as Apollo as he carries the sun.”

“Are you saying I’m hot, angel?”

“Is that what the mortals are calling it this millennia?”

The two of them laugh. Crowley realizes that their in a different location by now. His New York flat rather than Aziraphale’s dusty book store. It’s clean, unused, and if Crowley didn’t live in it, it would be the perfect example of a sell-house that retailers desperately show off. Too bad that Crowley claimed it for himself because it was probably the most untouched flat in the building. Not that anyone but him and Aziraphale would know that. For some reason the locks are ‘broken’ and no one else can enter. How strange.

Aziraphale sits on the couch, fingers absentmindedly running down the length of Crowley’s tail. His mind is elsewhere and it shows.

“Angel,” Crowley said softly. Then he followed it with a string of increasingly cuter nicknames, “Doll, dear, sweetheart... honey” until Aziraphale finally noticed that his head was in the clouds and the object of his affections, currently a snake, was addressing him.

“My apologies,” he says. “Perhaps I am the one who needs to sleep,” he adds. Neither angels nor demons needed to sleep.

Crowley unwraps himself around Aziraphale’s neck before slithering down his arm, stopping in his lap. “I know I’m thought consuming and always on your mind, but is something wrong?”

“No. I merely wanted your company,” Aziraphale replies. A fond smile crosses his lips as he looks down at Crowley, petting his head.

Crowley blinks, once again wondering if demon snakes could blush. He decided that he should just change his skin color to match his blush, but he would do that later. Now, he felt that he’d spent long enough in his snake skin and changed back with a swish of his tail.

This transformation was less dramatic as his other transformations. There was no smoke or weird scene where his snake body convulsed. No wails or agony or cracking of bones- he was back to his mortal guise in a second, a blink of the eye. That just shows that he had a flare for theatrics and the want to show off whenever he changed forms for Aziraphale.

Now he sat in the angels lap.

Aziraphale’s hand was still in Crowley’s hair even at eye-level. Crowley grinned at his angel, tilting his head and Aziraphale’s touch softened. “Well, I am the best company there is,” he says cheekily. Aziraphale doesn’t blush but Crowley knows that he found that comment amusing.

“What’s actually on your mind, angel?”

“You,” Aziraphale says so gently that it contrasts the teasing that usually follows a response like that. His free hand moves to Crowley’s cheek, caressing him with his warm palm.

Crowley hums, leaning into the touch. “But I’m right here,” he says out of a bout of stupidity, uncaring if he ruined the moment or not. “Forget your mind and just relax with me.”

A laugh escapes Aziraphale. It’s pure and angelic and genuine and he lights up in a way that Crowley only sees when Aziraphale’s at peace. “That’s such a silly thing to say,” he breathes and uses his other hand to cup Crowley’s other cheek. “I’m always relaxed with you.”

“Awe, even when I cause hell? I should do a better job,” Crowley bites lightly.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, leans forward, and kisses Crowley, and the rest of the world melts away.

Literally. Crowley almost burns his flat down because he wasn’t expecting the kiss. It takes forever to get the flat back together so that the mortals don’t notice anything strange just happened. Aziraphale laughs the whole time.

“That never happened,” Crowley mumbles, linking his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissing his cheek as thought the faint smell of fire doesn’t still linger in the air. “You’re not allowed to surprise kiss me again,” he added again.

“Noted darling,” Aziraphale whispers, turning Crowley’s head and kissing him on the lips again. What he doesn’t tell Crowley is that he’s the cause of the house burning down because Crowley had immediately kissed back.


End file.
